Out Of The Depths

Grief becomes my bitter morning prayer

Tears my Evensong to a deaf, blind, unfeeling

and uncaring God. Where were you and why

this insulting silence, sadness, sorrow echoing

in the emptiness of my broken heart? Why?

O, I will not bless the Reaper's cruel hand

nor mouth hallow hymns to placate some

proud peddling of God's will.

Rather I will look death in its dark face

and defiantly drink my cup in turn

and with every breath and ounce of life

until the very end I will dance.

For in truth life and death, twin playmates

from the beginning, hiding and seeking,

each enlightens, overshadows the other

until each sunrise heralds a new night,

each twilight the approach of eternal Dawn.

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